Outlaw Born

Outlaw Born-Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Ten months had passed, winter had come again but no further telegrams or letters. Ben walked tall and suppressed the urge to rub the ache in his shoulder as he joined his troops.

Dawson greeted him with a salute trying to keep the grin of his face. The loyal soldier had sat with Ben during his fever when he could. To him, Ben was an older brother.

Ben allowed a slight grin to slip through his own hard façade in return. "Private Dawson, are the men ready to march?"

The private nodded and looked back at his fellows. "Yes, sir. We await your command, Lieutenant."

Ben walked down the lines of men. They were a ragged looking bunch, many shivering in the cold because their uniforms were worn threadbare. There were times he was surprised more men didn't desert with the conditions they were forced to fight with. He wondered if the south had the same issues often being even more undersupplied than they were.

He stopped before one proud young man. The boy's coat was patched and had a few snags at the bottom. His boots had the toes cut out to make room for his long feet. Still the young Union soldier stood with his chin high, rifle clean and ready on his shoulder. Buttons and boots shined to as much perfection as one could muster under these conditions.

Ben laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. "You do your president proud, son." Ben saw himself standing there when he had first been called in to fight. He was reluctant to part from his wife and young son. Their life had just begun in New Mexico.

Yet he had seen this war as a chance to wipe the slate clean. Rid himself of the taint being his father's son had left behind. So far he had done so, Ben would take this new reputation home with him and give his wife a reason to hold her head high when she walked on his arm.

Ben mounted his horse and rode down the line. "Dawson, move'em out."

The younger soldier gave a salute. "Yes, sir."

As the men marched closer to the rest of the brigade, they could hear shouts. Some angry, some cheered. Men broke ranks, turned back to run through the lines toward camp instead of battle.

Officers called out orders to stand firm, get back in line. Ben reached down and grabbed the arm of a runner. "What's going on?"

The young man looked up. "It's over, the war's over."

Ben let go of the soldiers arm and looked at his men. "No one budge from their spot. Or I'll hunt you down for your court martial myself."

He spurred his horse forward to find his commander. He spotted the old man trying to keep chaos from unfolding, but it was too late for that. Ben rode up to him. "Major..."

When the Major looked at Ben, there were tears that rimmed the weary blue eyes. It was true. This hell had come to an end. Ben could go home.

****

Ben stood and listened as the General gave the final address given to the men departing service. It had been a long four years since he had seen his family. He tried to stand proud, but he was tired of blood and battle.

This would be the last time he would march with his men, dress in full uniform, or have to salute. It was time to put away all of these reminders of war and raise cattle and plant corn or maybe barley. Barley was a good crop.

Ben shifted his feet, like an anxious private on his first day in camp until the General gave his final word.

With a sigh of great relief, he shifted to attention and gave one last salute. The General released them from their service and Ben turned toward the stables. His horse was already packed and ready to go. As he walked, he let his mind wander through the last few years of his life.

When he had enlisted, he felt sure of the cause and his country. With each march, each battle confidence in standing on the right side became muddied. He didn't care anymore who won or lost, only that he was going home.

He stood next to his horse and took off the blue coat, removed the saber from his side. It felt as though a weight had been lifted from him. Ben dropped his new hat on his head and thumbed the rim bending it a bit more over his eyes before he mounted.

Dawson walked over and reached up his hand. The young man's smile held everything Ben wanted to feel. "Lieutenant... "

Ben raised a brow as he leaned forward on the saddle and shook the hand firmly. "There's no more rank on this sleeve Mr. Dawson."

"No Sir, none on this one either. I'm headed back home to Tempe, I might just find a gal that will take me." Dawson's excitement was contagious Ben had to relent and grin a touch himself.

"That sounds like a fine plan of action. I think I'll start with a crop of barley since I've already got the gal." Ben chuckled and clasped the man's shoulder. He had to admit to himself that farewells were harder than he'd thought. They had become brothers of a sort through their experience. "When you find your sweetheart bring her down. I'll tell her the truth of all the lies you've been fillin her ears with."

Dawson snorted a laugh and shook his head. "Not a chance, Lieu... Ben. I'm as honest as Abe." When Ben gave him a look Dawson added, "Well, some of the time anyway."

The men looked at each other for a moment as if to contemplate their paths ever crossing again. It was Ben who finally broke their silence. "Keep your head down Dawson, there's still some Rebs who don't know the party is over."

Dawson shouldered his pack and Ben nudged the horse forward then pulled back on the reins and looked down. "Dawson, what the hell is your first name? All this time I've only known you as Private Dawson."

"Robert, sir. My mama named me after my granddad who fought when we were the rebs." He grinned and gave Ben a sharp salute before he walked on.

Ben nudged his horse again as he called back. "You did him proud, Robert, you did him proud."

He took a final look as he rode out the gates. A peaceful future lay ahead of him he hoped. He pulled the worn portrait from his pocket and grinned softly. It had been nearly a year since he had gotten a letter from his wife.

Military mail had been trial and error with deliveries; most likely that was the cause. He pushed back that inner voice which said there was reason to worry and caressed the worn edge of the frame with his thumb. With a heavy sigh, he slipped it back into his pocket and spurred his mount into a run. "I'm coming home, Ellen. Finally coming home."